


Statue, Unknown Amaurotine Orator

by oneironym



Series: Anyder Museum of Eschatology [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Gen, Lahabrea and Igeyorhm are married, Memories, Pre-Sundering (Final Fantasy XIV), Sad Ascians, vague spoilers for 5.3 msq, vauge spoilers for 5.4 Eden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneironym/pseuds/oneironym
Summary: Marble and unaspected aether crystal on granite base - This figure’s features are too weathered away to identify as any individual, but the base appears to be a podium. The statue’s missing outstretched arm was not found at the dig site, and so we cannot discern for certain whether the pose indicating an exact role is meant to be the supine gesture of giving (as instruction), or closed fist (as in judgement). However, firebird motifs discovered nearby at the site lead many scholars to believe that the figure represents Lahabrea, Abyssal Celebrant and Speaker of the Convocation - the last individual to hold this office before the Fall of Amaurot.
Relationships: Igeyorhm/Lahabrea (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: Anyder Museum of Eschatology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100177
Kudos: 9





	Statue, Unknown Amaurotine Orator

Memories poured into Igeyorhm from the crystal she held, flashing before her eyes as they filled her mind to the brim and spilled over. She could not possibly hope to hold them all, sundered as she was, but she drank them in nonetheless, clutching at as many of the sweet thoughts and somber recollections as she could. 

All her life, her soul had held wisps of memories - a girl, a student, a citizen, a Martyr - but now she could see them all, inscribed upon a concept crystal when her world had still been whole. Her soul quaked with the profound and overwhelming rush of aether, and it was only the sensation of a hand on her shoulder that kept Igeyorhm from shaking apart entirely.

When at last she could perceive the world of the present again, Igeyorhm opened her eyes. The Ascian woman found herself crouched on a stone platform in an endless void, but she was blessedly not alone. Her perch was one of a ring, a full set for the Convocation of Amaurot. And kneeling beside her, supporting her as she recovered, was a blond man with concern written on his features presently unhidden by his red mask.

“Do you remember?” he asked carefully, watching Igeyorhm as her breathing gradually slowed.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then nodded as she exhaled. “I am Igeyorhm, Martyr of the Convocation, and servant of the one true god….”

The great crystalline visage of Zodiark watched over them in silence, lending a comforting violet glow in the darkness.

The blond Ascian nodded at her reply, then licked his lips and steadied his voice before asking her next, “Do you remember me?”

Igeyorhm hesitated, turning her gaze slowly back to his face, his golden eyes, his strong jaw… the red fanged mask that rested on the ground beside them.

“You….” 

\---

The Convocation hall had been utterly silent since Lahabrea had gathered the Thirteen to make known that their eldest sister, Elidibus, had passed away, back to the lifestream. The others had left, to mourn in their own ways, but Igeyorhm remained in the chambers with her husband, seated beside him. Now the Speaker was the eldest member, and it was plain from the shaking of his hands that the shock of this hit him just as hard as the loss of his mentor. He had to be the one to call the others together to deliver this news, a role that Igeyorhm did not envy in the least. 

“You knew her better than all of us,” the Martyr said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I, for one, think that she prepared you well to take on this role.” An unofficial one, as the Convocation worked together as equals, but it was only natural for the junior members to look to their elders for guidance. 

She knit her fingers together with his, and his skin was soft, wrinkled, and warm. Lahabrea rested his head on her shoulder, and he closed his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks. “Long had I feared that my first duty in her role would be to find her replacement, but I could not-- or perhaps dared not….” He trailed off with a sob.

Igeyorhm brushed a lock of his blond hair back behind his ear and embraced him. “Not her replacement, her successor,” she reminded him, and glanced up, over to the podium meant for the one who held the seat of the Convocation’s Emissary. The words were true, but they still rang a bit hollow, so soon after Elidibus’ passing. Still, perhaps it was best for the both of them, to say it aloud. “After we have taken our time, the Convocation will work together to bring a new member into our fold. That individual’s duty will not be to become their predecessor, but rather to grow into their own, with our guidance and that of our people.”

Lahabrea drew in a deep breath, and let it out in a shuddering sigh as he brushed his thumb over Igeyorhm’s knuckles. “This is how the Darkness drives us to grow,” he murmured, repeating a lesson, a mantra, that all of them had learned when they were young.

“And you need not shoulder the burdens alone,” she reminded him.

\---

Igeyorhm stood at the window in her office, looking out across Amaurot from her vantage point in the Convocation’s capitol building. The sky was tinged with the colors of flame as it had been for weeks - a thin yellow at first, which had advanced across the spectrum to an unsettling shade of orange. The earthquakes had been getting worse of late, and the Fourteen still struggled not only to comprehend what was happening to their world, but to come up with a plan to stop it. 

The Convocation were not above the anxieties of their fellow citizens, and several of the members had grown short with each other during their most recent deliberations. During this recess to cool tempers and refocus thoughts, Lahabrea had come to his wife’s office to join her looking out at their city. The Speaker had no words now, but his presence, his protective embrace, was comfort enough to Igeyorhm. 

Tearing her eyes away from the dark clouds gathering along the horizon, behind Amaurot’s sweeping spires, she looked instead to Lahabrea. Eons of time serving in the Convocation had written experience upon his soul as surely as it had written furrows of thought across his brow, crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, lines of a thousand smiles on his cheeks. His soft, familiar features always looked regal to her when illuminated by the flames he tamed and wove with his creations, but the fire of this eldritch sky lacked all such warmth. 

For all his experience, nothing at all could have prepared him, could have prepared any of them, for this.

At last, Lahabrea broke the silence, speaking to the worries he could still hear from her through his Echo. “You need not sell yourself short,” he told his wife. “You were named to this Convocation for good reason, and you have served nigh as long as I have. All fourteen of us work together, and our people look to our combined wisdom to pull us through this. We will find a way.”

A low rumbling rose in the distance, steadily came closer, and shook the building around them. Lahabrea pretended to ignore it. “We all have our parts to play, and ours are not as aged monuments. We will not be the last. We will have successors of our own.”

Igeyorhm grasped at his arm more tightly until the tremor passed, sweeping out behind them until the sound faded. Then she nodded, steeling herself before looking up at Lahabrea. “I do seem to be the only one who can tell our Emet-Selch to shut up and have him actually take heed.”

The Speaker laughed softly and Igeyorhm had to smile. 

\---

“Lahabrea,” she breathed, recalling his face now as clearly as the day she had committed her memories to crystal. His true name, too, she spoke aloud, and tears started to come to her eyes at the way her husband smiled at her. But….

“You look… so much younger,” Igeyorhm remarked. The furrow in her own brow settled into a ready crease while she reached up to trace a fingertip along Lahabrea’s cheekbone, now somehow smoothed of both joy and worries. 

The Martyr knew her husband yet remained unsundered, but she realized now that he was  _ less  _ than what the crystal of memories told her that he should be. The sands of time had scoured more than the contemplative, avuncular details of his face away over the millennia; Lahabrea’s very soul had been eroding, as well.

She felt a tear slip unbidden from her eye; Lahabrea reached up to her face and carefully brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“Come now, none of that,” The Speaker said gently. The tone of his voice was warm as ever with her, but to her Echo, there was something it now lacked. “There is work to be done, dearest Igeyorhm of the Convocation. When it is complete, when Zodiark is reborn, all will be as it was, and there will be no need for tears anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by sad shower thoughts.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
